


Professor Slughorn: Matchmaker Extraordinaire!

by MyWhiteKnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And seriously it would be hilarious, Because Slughorn would be that nosy old man, F/M, Lovebottom, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWhiteKnight/pseuds/MyWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horace Slughorn returned to the life of teaching and, while the faces change, the basic teenage dilemma never does. He finds peculiar and interesting observations as he starts the year and decides to take matters into his own hands. Sometimes all one needs is a push in the right direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amortentia

Horace Slughorn watched as his sixth years filtered into the dungeons, their milling and talking both familiar and new. It is interesting, he muses, how the faces may change yet the students stay the same.

Green clad Slytherins, his house the man puffs, grinned sly, their blood pure, influence palpable even as children. To one side, the golden Huflepuffs smile and talk amiably to those around them. In their little pockets are the studious Ravenclaws, comparing notes or simply studying their books. Perhaps more pronounced than normal were the two Gryffindors, murmuring and talking together in close confederation.

Surveying the class once more, he cleared his throat and instructed the students to take their seats. A general shuffling and muttering followed as stools scuffed and people settled. Without further ado, he introduced their lesson.

“Now, now gather ‘round, get all nice and cozy, since this is what we are going to study today,” he gave a jolly invitation after a few class announcements.

An iridescent liquid sparkled within the cauldron, shifting in color not unlike a pearl. Gasps and whispers of admiration escaped a few of his female students, while others simply stared at it, wondering what he had concocted this time. A satisfied grin grew upon his face as students looked at him with curious glances.

“As you can see, today we are to be studying quite the beauty of a potion, but don’t let the appearance deceive you,” he said, knowingly touching the tip of his nose. “The most beautiful women are often the most dangerous, and the same can be said about potions as well.”

Several students chuckled, and most smiled. He observed them for a moment and, noticing how a few refused to quite meet his gaze or look at each other. Piquing the old man’s interesting, he forged on, storing the observations for another time.

“Now then, can anyone tell me what this is?” Almost as soon as he asked, Hermione Granger, an increasingly beautiful young woman from Gryffindor raised her hand. Bushy hair growing less frizzy by the day, and perfect teeth, her mind and wit had drawn the old professor’s interest and she soon became a favorite. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“This is amortentia, known as the most powerful love potion in the world,” she primly replied.

Horace’s eyes swept along his class once more, and he found, as expected, the interest of the class caught. Most decided to look and wonder, inspecting the potion, watching the vapors lazily swirl into the air. Only one of his students, the prince of Slytherin, did not lift his head. Another mark of interest registered in his mind, adding it to the newly made list.

“It is said that every person smells something different,” the Gryffindor continued, “For example I smell…” She gracefully stepped forward and closed her eyes for a moment, concentration furrowing her brow for a moment. “Freshly mowed grass, new parchment and…”

Her eyes shot open and widened just slightly. How peculiar, the professor thought. Honey eyes shot towards someone so quickly that, had he not been paying attention, he would have missed it. He quirked an eyebrow, intrigued further.

“And spearmint toothpaste,” Hermione rushed to finish, hoping no one would notice the pause or slight flush on her cheeks.

At that moment, the other student Horace had been watching stilled as if paralyzed. Without lifting his head, grey eyes lifted and cast a surprised, sidelong glance at the Gryffindor girl. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before she turned away. Not before, to the professor’s great interest, flushing a shade more.

“Very good, Miss Granger, ten points for Gryffindor,” he beamed at her.

Other students came, wondered at what they smelled, and then began on their assignment to recreate the brew. As they worked, the old man looked out at his class, watching them, walking amongst them, and thought...

_Curious._


	2. Wolfsbane and Alihotsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Slughorn ventures to Greenhouse 3 to find Neville. What happens with a particularly dream-lost Ravenclaw pays an unexpected visit?

Horace Slughorn made his way through the crisp October air. As every year before, verdant greens turned to vibrant hues of orange, red, and yellow, converting the rolling hills around the castle into a breath-taking painting. Indeed, the weather was fine for the time of year. Clear skies allowed the sun to beam down weak rays that fend off the edge of chill the breeze sends as it whips through the grounds.

Just ahead, the old man could make out the school greenhouses. Professor Sprout had told him his wolfsbane and alihotsy were ready to be picked up. However, she informed him, she would be tending to mandrakes with the second years. A tradition, she informed him, since some instance with paralysis a few years back. The portly professor had assured him that one of her most promising students would be in Greenhouse 3, tending to a few particular plants.

This is how he found himself face to face with a tall, lanky sixth year. He tried to remember his name, but as he did not attend his potions class, it escaped him. At first, the boy stood, attending to some vines that were trying to bite him instead, deftly picking his way through and cutting buds.

Horace watched amused and intrigued as he collected his small, white prizes. Several moments passed, and, growing impatient, he cleared his throat rather loudly. His head turned quickly and, in his distracted moment, one of the vines took hold of his finger.

“Ah, bloody-” he gasped in pain, pushing the vine back as he walked way. A small speck of blood could be seen trickling down his finger, a rag hiding it a moment later. “What can I do for you Professor Slughorn?” he asked.

“I came to collect a package Professor Sprout left for me. Several ingredients for potions classes I am to have soon, though, I must ask, what were you doing?” the old man asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“Ah well, you see,” the boy began as he reached for a brown paper package wrapped with twine. “Madam Pomfrey mentioned that St. Mungos was doing research with these buds. Said something about pulverizing them or drying them would make effective tonics for head and pain ailments. So, she has me harvesting them.”

Naturally, this lead to a conversation about the healing properties of the plant; what exactly would cause that? Is it the juice? Can it be brewed? Does it need to be enchanted? What types of cauldrons would be best? And so on they spoke until a Ravenclaw walked into the room, in an apparent daze. Professor Slughorn recognized her as Luna Lovegood, a most particular student that he enjoyed watching if for no other reason than for her mystical and puzzling commentary.

Her presence immediately affected the young man before him. Only moments before, he had been conversing fluently and smoothly, confident in his skills and knowledge. Upon noticing her, he began to stubble over words, tongue tying as his cheeks flushed pink. Most peculiar, the old man thought.

“Oh Neville, there you are,” she murmured, “Ah, hello Professor Slughorn. Wonderful day isn’t it? I am just sure the blibbering humdingers are out today. Do you have any aconite roots? I am told they are quite fond of it.”

So, Neville is his name. Yes, the man remembered, Neville Longbottom. What a tragedy, and yet here he stood, befuddled and confused by a pretty girl. It warmed Horace’s heart to see that the war did not stop the better parts of life to flourish.

“Ah w-well,” Neville blushed as he reached for another package.

How curious indeed, thought Slughorn, that Miss Lovegood could not see or observe such obvious affections for herself. Then again, for how perceptive she could be, most ‘normal’ observations escaped her. It created a most intriguing dialogue, one sanguine and dense, the other tripping and self-conscious.

An idea struck him, most benevolent and well meaning, of course. He had in his midst young people unwilling or unable to express themselves honestly to one another. If only they had a helping hand to gently encourage them.

“Well, Mr. Longbottom, I must be going now. Perhaps another time we can talk some more, hm?” he smiled, plan forming in his mind’s eye. “Until then. I’ll see you in class Miss Lovegood.”

A stuttered thanks and calm farewell later, and Horace once more found himself out in the crisp autumn air. Sly grin and mischievous sparkle spoke of his excitement, even if the skip in his step dulled against the stone of the castle floors.

Yes, a little encouragement indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahaha! I love the Luna/Neville dynamic. I think it's particularly adorable and I'm truly sad it did not become cannon. I think that it would have been most adorable. So, in my mind, Neville is truly in his element when talking about plants, their properties and particular uses. Of course, he could easily strike up and keep a conversation going with Slughorn.
> 
> However, whenever Luna is around, he kinda loses himself. And it's freaking adorkable. I can't even. It's one of the cuter purely nerdy pairings in the books, and it should have been a thing! Enjoy!
> 
> Tune in next time as Professor Slughorn puts his plan into action. :D


	3. A Late Night Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Horace finishes the invitations for the first Slug Club meeting one night, the prefects patrolling catch his attention. Inviting Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger to have tea turns the quiet evening into a lively event.

Horace Slughorn sat in his office, moonbeams streamed in through the large windows. He sighed contented, a quiet thought of how Severus could ever prefer the dark and damp dungeons to a warm tower. Fresh pressed parchment sat upon his desk in neat stacks, envelopes marked with intricate, fine, flowing handwriting. Eyes sparkled as his hand glided along another stark piece. Invitations, sealed and signed, sit on the opposite side of his desk. Each addressed to an early favorite of his.

_Perhaps,_ the man thought as he sealed another letter, _this batch of students will turn out just as powerful. I am sure I could ask Potter for favors, and Zabini is just as charming as his mother. I am sure Granger will be quite powerful within the ministry as well..._

"What the bloody hell does it look like I am doing, Granger?" a spiteful sneer echoed through the hall, interrupting Horace's delightful musings. 

"Ha!" the girl snorted, obviously not believing the boy. "You call ducking into a room after splitting up 'patrolling,' Malfoy? Look, I don't care what you do in your own time, but when we are on duty-"

"I did not duck into a room," Draco Malfoy retorted. 

"Of course not, and I didn't just spend an hour of our joint patrol searching for you," Hermione Granger answered.

Slughorn could hear her eyes rolling, and had to stifle a soft chuckle. The pair were anything but discreet, and it amused the old man how they could be so oblivious to the notion of anyone overhearing them. As the pair bickered and argued, sending jabs and barbs at each other, the professor was struck with a very gallant idea. A swish of his wand brought out a tea set, water simmering, and jasmine tea ready to brew. He stood up, straightened his emerald robes, and strode into the corridor. Eyes crinkled at the sight before him. Two teenagers, turned away from each other, glaring at the walls, only to turn and hiss or scold the other in turns. 

_Indeed, for two people who dislike each other, they pay quite a bit of attention to the other,_ the old man grinned to himself.  _Interesting indeed._

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," Horace called out a moment later, eyes still twinkling in the dark. Both students eyes snapped towards him, Hermione Granger appearing alarmed and worried while Draco Malfoy appeared wary and cautious. "I couldn't help but hear you both out here. I was wondering if I could have the pleasure of your company for some tea."

Hesitation. Honey eyes glanced quickly to grey, their conversation silent and quick. Hermione stepped forward, looking for a moment longer at her patrol partner before addressing the professor before her. Of course, this made Horace all the more eager to invite them in for some tea. Years of experience taught him, if nothing else, the interesting dynamics of young love; how apparent emotions bury the secret truth, how small interactions and gestures can mean so much if one knew just how to look. It had been some time since two young people intrigued him so much, reminding him of two former favorites of his. 

"Thank you for the invitation, sir," she began in a sure tone, "But I believe we should continue on our patrol."

"Oh, it won't be for more than ten minutes, tops. Surely, you can spare that time for an old man," Horace smiled, wrinkles crinkling in a benign, grandfatherly way. 

Another silent dialogue passed, the twinkle in his eyes the only indication of his amusement. A moment passed and Hermione sighed, turning back to him. She looked shrewdly at him, silently assessing, before nodding and agreeing. With a delighted clap, Horace genially lead them to his office, the tea water now whistling it's happy tune. He talked on general subjects as he readied the tea. 

Hermione sat on one couch, nodding and carrying the conversation with him. Charming and witty, Horace found he had great enjoyment in the conversation. She smiled and laughed, quite the opposite of her companion. Opposite of her sat Draco Malfoy. Blonde hair laying perfect and stormy eyes staring off into the distance, with his mouth in a permanent scowl. The general resemblance to other before them resonated with him as he gave each student a beautiful, porcelain tea cup. 

"Isn't this delicious tea?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes, thank you," the young woman answered with a smile. "It is delightful. Jasmine, correct?"

"Very good, Miss Granger," Horace responded, "A fine palette you have, there." 

"I highly doubt that," snorted Draco, condescending sneer in place. "There is no way a muggle-born could know that much about fine dining." 

"Well, let's not be hasty, Mister Malfoy," Slughorn replied with ease, noticing Hermione's eyes narrow into dangerous slits.

"Oh? And what would wizards know about cooking and tastes? Did it never occur to you that muggles can make and try just as many different foods and flavors as wizards?" she shot back. 

The boy laughed, a barking, derisive sound. It always amazed Slughorn how features could change so much with a simple smile or frown. While still harsh and inhospitable, Draco looked more like a boy of sixteen. Stress Horace never noticed melted for the moment. Hermione, next to him, flushed an angry pink and had her arms crossed in front of her, defensive though not hostile. 

"That's rich, Granger," Malfoy chuckled after a few seconds, sneer back upon his face. "I trust you are smart enough to know that there is a far greater variety in food options in the magical world than the muggle world could even imagine. Perhaps you aren't as smart as they say, though."

"Of course I know that," she huffed, sitting up straighter as if to challenge him. "However, that is not what makes a refined palette. It is the ability to identify what ingredients go into the food you eat, not the variety. I've heard that tea is an excellent way to test such sensitivity. In fact," she said after a moment, carefully observing or adversary, "I bet you didn't even know what kind of tea we were having." 

Horace leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the turn of the conversation. A soft chuckle escaped him as he observed the boy on his left. Grey eyes opened wide, mouth slightly agape. It was obvious to him that Hermione hit the nail on the head, as it were. For all the money and status his family had, perhaps enjoying and learning about tea were not among the lessons, or he did not learn them. Either way, it was clear that the girl on his right had the advantage at that moment, and she knew it. Her arms remained crossed, but her face took on a grin, devious gleam in her eyes.

"What is this? The great Draco Malfoy doesn't know tea when he tastes it? Now, who has the 'upper class' palette, hm?" she grinned, satisfied and confident. 

"You don't know that," Draco blustered, clearly disgruntled for a moment. "And what does being able to discern taste have to do with anything?" 

"Why Malfoy, didn't you know that muggle-borns aren't supposed to be more refined than their pureblood counterparts?" Hermione innocently asked, fooling no one.

Draco crossed his arms and looked away, obviously defeated for the moment, and muttered, "whatever." Hermione giggled softly, and a chuckle finally escaped the professor, as he watched with great amusement.

He saw great potential in front of him, and delighted in the possibility. He silently thanked Dumbledore, the meddling old fool that he was, for getting him to teach once more. His life had missed both the stability of the castle and the great amusement he derived. He missed opportunities in the past, but was no longer to leave such things to chance. This time, the man thought, he was going to do what he thought was right.

After a few moments, Hermione glanced back at her watch and exclaimed at the time. She stood, thanking the professor for the tea, and stood, waiting for the boy. He stood, politely thanked the man, and walked out ahead of her without so much as a glance. Hermione shrugged her shoulders and bid farewell to Horace, who thanked them for stopping by, that they should do so again, and escorted her to the door. He watched as they walked down the hall, quieter now than before. While the occasional bickering and snide remarks echoed towards him, Horace fancied that something changed. 

In the moments before they turned up some way, Horace could swear that he saw the past. Fiery red hair bobbed down the hall, a mop of slightly greasy black hair slightly behind. The memory passed, and a head of bushy, brown hair and platinum blonde continued on their way. _No_ , the old man thought to himself, he would not let such tragedy happen again. Not on his watch. Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! I feel like Horace would always have tea and coffee ready for his favorites, and, of course, Hermione and Draco would be amongst those. I hope that I wrote them well enough for you guys, and that they aren't too OOC. I do want to slowly progress their relationship over the year, and not have it be a sudden change. This time it was to make Draco realize, or grudgingly be proven, that muggles can do 'high class pureblood' things, too.
> 
> Thank you for everyone who has read and given kudos! I enjoy writing this, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it, too. Until next time!


	4. Two-Toed Sneezles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day, during fifth year potions, Horace over hears the most interesting conversation. Perhaps it explains why a certain dreamy blonde cannot see what he so obviously notices.

Classes swirled together, as mid November drew neared. Professor Slughorn hummed to himself as he walked around the fifth year class. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs sat together, chatting quietly and working on their potions. Cold drafts wafted through the dungeons, causing students to bundle and shiver, some even warming their hands by the fires under their cauldrons. Horace could not agree more.

“Dora, you know that you needed to add the lacewings, right?” a dreamy voice floated down the aisle. “Otherwise the potion won’t work, and it could lure some awful things.”

“Oh, right Luna,” the brunette next to her murmured. 

Having watched the pair throughout the lesson thus far, Horace realized that one of the Hufflepuff boys and Dora, the shy Ravenclaw, had been stealing glances at each other the whole time. In fact, in his expert opinion, it has been going on for more than a month now. Hopefully, one of them will finally break the ice; he had a pool to win in the staff room.

“And you’re supposed to cut the tubers at a forty five degree angle, not a ninety,” the blonde gently admonished. 

“Of course, m-my bad,” Dora nodded, correcting herself. 

Reaching their desk, Horace greeted the young women and appraised their potion briefly. A nice, bright teal, as it should be at this time, assured him that they were making satisfactory progress. He nodded, and added some words of encouragement before turning away.

“Ah, and be sure to pay attention. The next few minutes will be critical, be sure to concentrate,” the professor added as an after thought.

“We will, professor,” Luna reassured him as one would a child. 

Horace shook his head, peppered hair swaying back and forth. While he would never quite understand the blonde, it added to the intrigue. Truly, it was a shame that her father ran the Quibbler, otherwise she would most assuredly be in the Slug Club, intriguing young mind. However, at least for the next quarter hour, nothing appeared amiss. A few students needed some help, though no one exploded a cauldron, which was a welcome reprieve. 

“Did you set the timer, Dora,” Luna’s voice lilted through the room. Horace internally sighed, hoping that all went well. 

“Honestly, Luna, I’m just… I’m not normally like… I’m-“ the brunette babbled, setting the timer for a slightly modified time. 

“It’s fine, Dora. You are just covered in luminaspores. They aren’t harmful, but they do distract you when in the presence of someone else with them,” Luna sagely replied. The other girl simply raised an eyebrow. “To be mundane, you like someone, yes?”

Dora simply blushed and cast her eyes at the Hufflepuff in question. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

“Simply put, luminaspores attach to those who have unresolved emotions, usually romantic, and cause more indecision,” she calmly explained, leaving Dora both mystified and impressed. “Obviously, Benjamin, you know the one, in Hufflepuff, is covered with them, too. If you’d both just go and talk to each other…”

Horace raised an eyebrow, thoroughly impressed. Keeping an ear on the on going conversation between the two girls, the old man wondered at it all. Perhaps what Luna saw, or didn’t see, were just due to a clearer third eye than most possessed. All of the things she saw and explained made sense and were, quite ironically, easily believable when explained. Perhaps she was more aware of her own situation than he previously thought.

“Do you really think so?” Dora asked, rapt attention directed at Luna. “I should talk to Ben?”

“If you want to get rid of the spores,” Luna dreamily replied. 

Dora simply nodded, chewing on her bottom lip and drumming her fingers along the desk. A thoughtful silence ensued between the two, followed by some stirring of the potion. Horace smiled to himself, continuing his rounds about the room. He vowed to make the most of his time, and helping his students to do the same. Of course, earning some valuable future contacts never hurt anyone. 

Near the end of class, Luna brought up the vials for her and Dora. He asked some friendly questions; how was the nargle search going, well done of their potion, if she had seen Neville recently. Each inquiry was responded with an equally dreamy, easy answer. The blond went back to her desk, talking genially once more, leaving the professor to muse alone.

“Did Professor Slughorn ask you about Neville Longbottom?” Dora asked, watching her companion with curiosity.

“He did. Neville often helps me when I am looking for creatures. He even goes with me into the forest, though he always says it’s for Professor Sprout,” she nodded.

“Don’t you think he is getting rather, I don’t know, cute?” Dora asked, tilting her head.

“I suppose you can say he’s getting handsome, though he has always been a wonderful person. Just a bit forgetful,” Luna agreed.

“And you’ve never wondered if he liked you?” Dora asked, voicing Horace’s question exactly.

“No more than the usual, I would suppose. I really cannot say, though, as my father says I have two-toed sneezles when I was young. He says those block self sight,” she gave a sage nod. 

“If you say so, Luna, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was something else,” Dora remarked.

“Oh? Why would you say that?” Luna inquired, head tilted to the side.

“Just the way he is around you, you know? Kind of shy and bumbling, adorable in his own way, I suppose,” Dora answered with a nod. 

“That’s how he’s always been,” Luna simply said as if it explained everything.

“If you say so, Luna,” Dora chuckled just as the bell rang, dismissing the class.

Horace sat at the table and mused. He would obviously need to give a little push here to the poor bloke. Indeed, she was uncanny in her observations of others, but to herself, well, that was doubtful at best. Whatever these ‘two-toed sneezles’ were, had greatly damaged Luna’s third eye abilities when it came to self observation. With a hum and a nod, Horace began to plot a little plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this new Slughorn watching. You all know that the professors were making bets on future relationships amongst other things, and being a Slytherin, I am sure that he was more than happy to do such things.
> 
> I am short on time, but I hope you all enjoyed! Toodles!


	5. A Team is Formed

A soft tick-tock filled the luxurious office on the sixth floor. Crackling and popping joined in the late night symphony that Horace Slughorn came to love. At the end of a particularly trying day, Horace enjoyed the peace of his office. The groans and moans of the castle were drowned out, drafts chased away, and general stress eased out of his shoulders as the night drew on. 

As the clock struck quarter after ten, another sound started to waft into his office. The door, always open and inviting at this time, funneled the sound of two voices bickering. While still down the long corridor, the old man smiled to himself. These little tea parties, as Horace dubbed them, brought much entertainment and needed bonding time. 

The two sixth year prefects in question always brightened up his evenings. Blinded by prejudice, neither student had quite grasped the fact that they were both quite alike. Highly intelligent, well read, with wits to match, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were well matched. Dumbledore, the meddling headmaster, appeared to have known this, placing them together on all of their patrols since the beginning of the year. Horace thanked Merlin for Dumbledore’s foresight.

Humming a soft tune under his breath, Professor Slughorn brought his tea set from the china cabinet. With a swish, a new, rare blend of tea flew next to the simmering pot. It had become a sort of game with them now. Horace would bring out a new tea blend, Hermione would guess it, rather accurately if Horace was being honest, and they would pursue some sort of topic.

“Really, Granger, how am I supposed to know what goes on in the Weasel’s head?” the boy drawled in a bored voice. 

“Because you are both of the xy persuasion,” the girls snorted in response.

“You know, I don’t speak muggle,” came the derisive answer.

“I forgot, I need to be simpler. You are both boys,” she spoke slowly, patronizing her companion.

“While I know your typical company can’t rub two coherent thoughts together, I do have wits,” he growled. 

“Ah yes, because Crabbe and Goyle are such scintillating conversationalists,” she shot back.

Feeling it time to nip any real shouting match in the bud, Horace made himself known. Walking into the drafty corridor, he greeting the young people before him. Hermione smiled, honey eyes bright despite the bags under them, and curls slightly more tamed than usual. 

Next to her loomed the tall blond, perpetual scowl on his face, though with a respectful nod. Compared to the beginning of the month, he looked gaunt, worn, and stressed. He hid it well, the older man admitted to himself, yet not well enough from someone with so much knowledge and experience in high society.

As his young companions sat, Hermione making small talk, Draco looking at nothing, Horace silently took stock of them two. Since their first encounter, Horace had noticed small differences. Draco no longer used the word ‘mudblood’ around her. Hermione made the subtle effort of keeping her friends from antagonizing him. Even their conversations, those snippets that Horace caught, were more civil than before. Yet, he was not quite satisfied by their slow progress.

He would just have to change that, wouldn’t he?

“Now then, I have a proposition to make,” he began, weathered hands preparing the tea. Instantly, both teens listened; Hermione with marked interest and Draco with a subtle side long glance. “As you both know, over the next coming months, Professor Dumbledore has asked me to brew certain complex potions.He has allowed me the option of choosing students to assist me. I require skilled, intelligent students who know what risks to take.”

Horace looked up to evaluate their reactions. Predictably, Hermione cocked her head to the side, eyes intense and curious. Her lips pursed together, her mind’s whirling thoughts written upon her face. His other companion turned to face him fully. grey eyes boring into Horace. Draco’s arms rested upon his knees, leaning forward, his expression carefully neutral. 

“While my personal assistants would be given special privileges, they would have to earn it. I have several unconventional ingredients that need to be gathered at very specific times, and in less than safe places,” the man continued, steepled fingers resting on his knee.

“To be clear,” Hermione began after a moment of silence, “Are you offering this opportunity to both of us, sir?”

“Perhaps,” Horace replied, pouring the tea into their cups before levitating them to his companions. “You see, I cannot use just anyone, nor just any combination of people. From our little conversations, I believe that you two would be just the thing I need to complete these potions.”

“If I may, professor,” Hermione began, slow and unsure. “I can understand why one or both of us would be preferable, separate mind you.” _Ah,_ Horace thought, twinkle in his eyes, _even she can admit that young Mister Malfoy is quite adept at potions._ “When it comes to cooperation, I don’t think that would go quite how you would want.”

“What, Granger? Afraid of working with a Slytherin?” Draco taunted.

“Of course not! I think we both know I can hold my own against you,” she spat, meaningful glare directed at the blond boy. 

“Ah, afraid that little Pottyhead and Weaselbee couldn’t pass their classes without you,” Draco sneered.

“As if you are one to talk. I am sure that your bodyguards are simply awaiting your benevolent instruction so they can pass this year with more than a troll,” she snarked.

“I think you’re just terrified to be left alone with the big, bad wolf,” he smirked, predatory glint in his eyes. 

“Really, Malfoy, where did you even get such a ridiculous notion,” she rolled her eyes and turned her back to Draco. “My point being, professor, that Malfoy and I simply do not work well together. As illustrated, we fight far too much to be of use together.”

“Only because you cannot accept your place, Granger,” Draco said, arrogance dripping from his voice. 

“And where is that?” she feigned ignorance and innocence. “Ah yes, I remember now. Top of the class, above you.” 

“Why Granger, if you wanted to be on top, that’s all you had to say,” he smirked once more.

“If only to make a point,” she scoffed, turning back to the older man.

Horace watched the whole exchange with great amusement. The energetic banter magically renewed both of his students. Worries and stress washed from them for that moment, revealing two teenagers. In fact, the only time either appeared their age was during these little meetings. Horace knew, deep in his bones, that having Hermione and Draco work together would help both of them. Determination drove him to do what he should have before.

“Now, now,” Horace chuckled, “If someone overheard, they would ask who the old, married couple was.” Both teens gaped at his playful wink. Satisfied that they were both silent, the man continued as good natured as before. “As I said before, there are some rather strong incentives for the position. Perhaps it would be best to hear those before making a choice, hmm?” 

Sufficiently caught, Hermione leaned back in her chair, thoughtfully sipping her tea. Across from her, Draco crossed his legs, echoing her body language. Both read open and curious to the Professor, years of people watching paying off. He paused, allowing his students to stew. 

“It appears I have caught your attention. Wonderful,” he beamed. “Now then, as per the Headmaster himself, my assistants will be have no curfew, be allowed off grounds while on assignment, as well as miss classes for any work I give. Of course, after each completed task, house points will be given, and perhaps an award or recognition if there is some exceptional work done.”

Silence, pensive and pregnant, followed this declaration. As if neither could quite believe what they heard, the teens exchanged incredulous glances. Horace observed in delighted silence, memories swirling of his earlier discussion with Dumbledore. For all his eccentric quirks, the man knew how to read his students.

“That is, of course, to be tempered with the responsibilities. I will not be making normal potions, and thus the ingredients will not be conventional or easy to obtain. No, Mister Malfoy, not even a stop at Knockturn Alley or mail order will obtain some of what I need,” Horace asserted at the look on the blond’s face. 

“You will both need to work closely together, and thus will be partnered in normal potions classes, no exceptions. In addition, if I am in need of your assistance, morning, noon, or night, you both will answer, together. All of this must be done in secret, and, if need be, bound by an unbreakable vow,” Horace said, serious and stern. “And rest assured, I have much need, though I will try my upmost to be conscientious of your other activities.” 

A head of brown curls bobbed, a thoughtful nibble of her lower lip the only indication she heard. Across from her, shrewd, stormy grey eyes assessed him, brow furrowed in thoughtful contemplation. _He will be quite the business man, like his father,_ Horace thought, _shame he couldn’t be in the Slug Club._ He was no fool, knowing that if these two did not accept him, that there were dozens of others who could potentially be of use. _Just none as effective or qualified._

“What do you think?” Horace asked.

Intelligent honey eyes meet shrewd silver as the students in front of him assess the other. Horace watched with a carefully neutral expression as they continued to size up their potential partner. Masks dropped for a moment, each calculating if they could work with the other, the pros and cons, and the plausibility of working with each other without there being a death. Imagine his surprise when Horace noticed mutual, grudging respect. Hermione released a heavy sigh, leaning forward once more.

“I will do it as long as Malfoy agrees to be professional and keep up his side of the agreement,” Hermione said, her voice resolute and firm. She quirked an inquiring brow at the boy across from her, the silent _what about you_ understood by all in the room.

“Just keep your own word, Granger, and we’ll be fine,” he grudgingly accepted.

Horace congratulated the pair in the choice, an exuberant clap accompanying his words, as he prepared the parchments, babbling happily about when to expect a meeting and their privileges. He noticed that the pair chose to exchange stoney glares. _We can’t be having that now, can we_ , he cackled internally. 

“Now, now, I cannot have my assistants start on such a bad foot, hm? Come now, why not a good hand shake before you go on your way to finish your patrol,” Horace jovially asked, twinkle within his eyes.

“I don’t think-“

“That won’t be-“

“We probably shouldn’t-“

“Not a good idea-“

“Enough of that, consider this your first job. I nice, firm, professional hand shake to seal the deal,” Horace urged them, noticing the faint blush upon Hermione’s cheeks and the great reluctance painted upon Draco’s face.

With a huff, Hermione stuck out her hand, waiting. An unsure Draco gave futile glances between Hermione and Horace before resigning himself. Reluctance evident in his motions, the boy shook her hand, firmly. She nodded, eyes turning into competitive slits which instantly made Draco’s do the same. 

“See, it wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Horace smiled at the pair as the took their hands back. 

Hermione graciously thanked him for the opportunity, talking about meaningless nothings as she stood and went to the door. Draco, likewise, stood, thanked him for the tea, and head out. Horace watched as they walked down the corridor, much quieter than normal. As they walked away, he noticed the boy clench and unclench his hand.

_Another point towards Dumbledore. The man is almost always right, it would seem_ , Horace thought as he watched the pair turn the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for some semblance of plot! Yay plot! If you guys can't tell, there is going to be some fun tandem adventures going on soon, and out of Horace's point of view. I want to make the eventual relationship changes be natural and slow. I promise you that Neville and Luna will have some of their own, as well as some joint ventures (because that would just be too fun to pass up).
> 
> Obviously, Draco agreed since having no curfew would allow him to do the things he needs easier, and Hermione would use it to help keep Harry and Ron out of trouble. That is perhaps the driving incentive for them both, as the rest are just bonuses.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed! If there are any questions or comments, feel free to ask! Thank you!


	6. Midnight Stroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horace manages to convince his favorite students to go on a midnight adventure through the Forbidden Forest. While his meddling schemes were innocent and benevolent at best, it takes a turn for the more interesting.

The night air bit through the warm, black cloak. An intricate silver clasp chilled warm, gnarled fingers before warming up with a silent spell. A silvery puff swirled into the night, twirling and dissolving into the cold air. Silver wand light played along the dark, twisted branches and trunks of the trees, eerie patterns falling onto the ground under them. Shadows played along the trail and upon the four students in front of the man.

Horace grinned at the sight of four cold teenagers, wands held above their heads, muttering and trudging along their late night venture. While a night time hike in late November perhaps was not the best advised course of action, the older man did not begin to hesitate. All of the students in front of him needed a push, some assistance, even if they did not believe so.

The gangly brunette tripped, causing the two young women to grab out for him and the other boy to laugh. At that moment, they were nothing but teenagers, interacting just like the rest of the professor’s students over the years. Sadness swept through the man, knowing that this was naught but the calm before the storm. By this time next year, if they were not changed drastically, Horace would be surprised. Memories such as these were meant to be savored. 

“Honestly, Longbottom, are your feet so big you cannot see where you’re going?” snorted Draco Malfoy before he stumbled.

A chorus of laughter answered the action with a single grumbling note among them. One of the girls extended a hand to help him, mirth in her eyes. Pride denied the young Malfoy the proffered olive branch as he stood alone. Eyes twinkled and a grin creased the man’s old, weathered face.

“Now, now, children, we must be alert,” he genially admonished. All around him, muttered sounds of acknowledgement echoed as they swept their respective areas. 

“I don’t even know how I got dragged into this,” Neville muttered, brown hair falling in front of his face.

A soft chortle escaped the man as he remembered exactly how he wrangled both he and Miss Lovegood on this mission.

_Horace walked into Greenhouse 3 on Monday, assured by Professor Sprout that Neville Longbottom would be assisting her there that day. It took less than a moment to ascertain that Miss Lovegood had a free period scheduled at the same time. Though not his normal day nor time to retrieve his potions ingredients, an air of excitement followed the man as he walked out the entrance hall into the decidedly chilled air of November._

_He realized that simply asking Mister Longbottom to venture into the Forbidden Forest would receive a negative. Once more, he sought the assistance of the Herbology master. Subtly, he hinted at several potions ingredients he would need to harvest, asking her for advice upon the subject. She confessed the perfect time, as he well knew, and place. She wistfully mentioned wanting some strange fungi or another, and Horace knew he had her._

_Unpretentious and unassuming, he off handedly mentioned the desire to go into the forest himself next new moon. She nodded thoughtfully, mentioning it to be that Thursday, the night before his first Slug Club meeting. Horace announced she was quite right and made some passing comment on the strange and strong plants and fungi at the time. They had uses, of course, beyond that of potion making, what a shame, said he, that no one else would be there to collect things. Of course, he withheld the fact that he had two perfectly knowledgeable assistants to accompany the old man, but she needn’t know that._

_She agreed, thoughtful once more, as her brown eyes swept across the Great Hall. Horace could even remember her voice as her gaze rested upon a certain maroon and gold clad young man._

_“Perhaps I can offer the services of Mister Longbottom? Certainly, he would be able to help harvest whatever it is you need. In fact, I could give him instructions to search for some rare species so we can once more cultivate them within the greenhouses,” she recommended, watching him with curious intent._

_Of course, he said. What could be more proper? Perhaps, though, he needs a partner of sorts._

_“Send Luna,” Hagrid had said from down the table._

_Horace knew from the moment he uttered the words “Forbidden Forest,” that the half giant had been listening. His beetle eyes glimmered with something, be it thoughtfulness or understanding Horace knew not. The old man would not be surprised if it was the latter. Potter’s friends often were involved with the Game Keeper, and Luna Lovegood’s abilities with creatures, both magical and mundane, were well known amongst the staff. It was entirely possible he knew of the interest and tension between the pair._

_“What a wonderful idea, Hagrid,” the portly Hufflepuff agreed. “She would be just the thing! I am sure that she could help Neville collect enough specimens for the greenhouses.”_

_“And I need a few thing from the forest that night, anyways. Can’t keep a few diets balanced without ‘em,” he nodded._

_Horace acquiesced to their plans with good nature. A subtle hint of asking a few of his brightest Potions students to help in his endeavor sealed the deal. Yes, the other two agreed. Neville and Luna work exceptionally well together and would be able to cover their tasks. The night would not be long enough for two students and one old Slytherin to gather all the things they needed. It was most sensible, they declared, that Horace assign a student or two for his own tasks._

_That is how he found himself talking with the lanky teen that morning, informing him of the impending trip and, of course, double checking Neville’s willingness to serve at the dinner on Friday. Similarly, he confronted Luna during her Potions lesson that day. His two, bright assistants were told of their first official ‘mission’ the very same night as they sipped a simple, yet excellent, blend of Earl Grey._

“Honestly, Malfoy, if you don’t know what you’re looking for, just come over here and hold your wand up so I can look,” one such assistant grumbled, shaking Horace out of his memories.

“Granger, is there nothing you do not over prepare for? Can you not just utter a spell yourself for that? Or did you forget you’re a witch,” the blond sneered.

“Malfoy, lay off,” Neville said, facing the other boy.

“Or what, Longbottom? Are you going to call mummy and daddy?” Draco smirked.

“No, Malfoy, that’s what you do,” Hermione interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Neville, I think Luna found something over there, why don’t you go and help?” Her hair bobbed as she gave a meaningful nod towards the blonde girl. Quiet muttering accompanied the lanky brunette boy as he walked away, not wanting to take his eyes off of Draco. “As for you, you git, get your arse over here. If you can’t research an assignment seriously, you might as well make yourself useful somehow.”

Thus, the situation dissipated, just like his warm breath into the cold, night air. Horace chuckled, pleased and amused at the turn of events. He found that none could keep the young Malfoy in line quite as well as Hermione. Her natural problem solving mentality and desire to keep everyone out of trouble counteracted his natural wit and sarcasm meant to wound and offend. The conversations that even were bordering on civil thanks to Miss Granger, and Horace could not be more pleased.

So they continued for a time, perhaps a quarter or half an hour if Horace were to guess. The quiet night air enclosed the small convoy. Mutters and muted conversations floated lazily across the air, a comfortable cocoon of activity. 

“What was that?” Draco said, attempting to sound aloof and unconcerned. 

“Nothing, as usual Malfoy. We are in the Forbidden Forest, twigs break, leaves rustle, owls hoot, that kind of thing,” Hermione dismissively waved her hand as she continued to harvest a small patch of moss.

“There it was again,” he muttered a moment later.

“I didn’t-“ Hermione began.

“I heard it, too,” Neville whispered, easily heard through the crisp air. “Luna, is there anything here that w-we should be scared of?”

“More than usual? Probably not,” Luna answered, carefree and serene as always. A sigh of relief whooshed out of the boys. “It is the new moon, so it can’t be the werewolves. However, it is the forest. Centaurs, acromantuals, the blast ended screwts from third year -ah, your fourth year- and Fluffy, of course, could all be awake.”

Neville’s face paled faster than Horace thought possible. Indeed, Draco appeared quite white at the breezy list of potential enemies within the forest. The two young women, however, appeared unperturbed. If Horace was being honest with himself, their demeanor impressed him.

“What is a ‘Fluffy’,” Draco asked slowly, eyes searching the forest around him in earnest.

“Nothing to worry about, Malfoy,” Hermione snorted as she capped the jar. “He’s just a three headed dog. A puppy really. He falls asleep with music.” She calmly stepped away, raised her wand, and began her search anew.

“A what?” the wizard behind her stammered.

“Merlin’s beard, he’s that bloody three headed monstrosity from first year,” Neville muttered, swaying as if to faint.

“Yes, yes, the dog over the trapped door that lead to the philosopher’s stone,” Hermione answered, her attention more so on the ground than her peers.

Luna nodded in agreement, obviously having the details from either Hagrid himself or from her friends. She, too, continued her search for, as she put it, the root that the thestrals just adored. Neville, however, grasped the nearest tree for support, a small whimper escaping his throat. Meanwhile, Draco stared at Hermione with unabashed wonder, fear, and incredulity. 

“What?” Hermione asked a moment, defensive and self conscious. “It’s not like we did much. Just took turns playing a reed flute, horribly I might add, while the thing slept.”

“You, Potter, and Weasel serenaded a bloody cerberus,” Malfoy asked, hands moving wildly, “In first year?”

“Malfoy, you don’t want to know what we’ve done over the years,” Hermione snorted as she casted an amused glance at the boy. “Now get over here and help me. I’m not going to do all the work.” 

Horace chortled. Hermione Granger was indeed a spitfire, full of surprises to boot! If only he were a few decades younger. He shook such thoughts from his head as he watched his assistants continue their work. Careful eyes swept around the clearing for the other pair, and spotted them off to the side.

A loud crash resonated throughout the forest, stilling the party in their tracks. Neville whimpered, Luna tilted her head to the side, while Hermione raised her wand and Draco stiffened. Horace, for his part, swung, wand ready, towards the disturbance. Grunts and moans grew louder, closer, as multiple creatures drew near their location. Four pairs of eyes watched him expectantly. Just as the shadowy creatures could be seen just outside their wand light.

“RUN!” 

Not wasting a second, everyone turned a different direction and dispersed through the forest. Horace rushed to the edge, hoping to find Hagrid within his cabin. He raised his voice, hoping to coral his wayward charges towards him, but the amount of crashing and cursing he heard from behind him told Horace otherwise.

_Merlin and Morgana above, please let them be alright,_ the man quietly prayed to the powers that be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So plot! Yay! It kinda arrived. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I am excited to get onto the non-Horace bits of the narrative. The next few chapters will necessitate it, and I am glad to provide. I guess we get to see the early fruits of Slughorn's insistence. 
> 
> As for characterization, I hope you don't find anyone too OOC. I feel like Hermione and Luna would be infinitely more comfortable in the forest than the boys. Luna is known to wander into and out of the forest, and Hermione has had enough dealings within it to know what is and isn't dangerous. I also feel like Malfoy would jump at any noise, and his traumatizing first year experience would only heighten that (because, let's be honest, if I saw something drinking the blood from a unicorn, I'd be traumatized and petrified of the forest).
> 
> I always imagined Slughorn would be the type to subtly and sneakily get what he wants, making others think it was their idea to start with. Hence, why I was so amused while writing his little explanation flash back.
> 
> Enjoy and until next time!


	7. Unicorn Trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville and Luna find themselves lost in the Forbidden Forest at night. Together, they make their way back to Hogwarts, and a most peculiar legend comes into play.

Neville gasped, out of breath from running for his life. Again. Really, how he always ended up in these life or death situations baffled him. Couldn’t he, for once, have a nice, quite, adventure free year? But no, he had to come out tonight, and he had to be working with Luna and then the trolls charged…

“Luna,” the gangly teen murmured, whipping his head around. 

Rough bark bit into his back and hands as he slowly turned around the large, gnarled tree trunk. Just a few trees away, long blonde hair swayed. A relieved breathe Neville never noticed whooshed from his chest. Slowly, he crept away from the tree, quietly making his way. Wand at his side, he glanced around the forest.

“Luna,” he whispered, hoping the girl would hear. 

To his great relief, she turned to face him. Anxious eyes took in every inch of her, glad to see no obvious signs of injury. She stepped up to him and smiled her serene, carefree smile. Without wanting to, Neville’s own mouth responded, lips turned upward at the sight of her safe. Or, he reasoned, as safe as she could be in the forest.

“Hello Neville, I am glad I found you,” she replied. “I didn’t want the trolls to find you. I think we wandered a far bit too close to their village. They live quite a ways from the Black Lake, you know.”

“T-trolls?” he sputtered.

“The mountain ones, yeah,” Luna nodded.

“I-I mean, we were r-run out by trolls?” he paled. Sometimes, Neville knew how he got into Gryffindor. “I-I mean, we really couldn’t have gone that far, you know? We entered by Hagrid’s hut. We haven’t been walking for more than an hour or so.”

“I suppose it’s possible we hit a small snag in time, though there weren’t any grindysnatches about,” she remarked, looking pensive. The boy in front of her never quite knew what she was talking about. “Although, now that we are here…”

Neville cast his eyes around the area once more, and then he felt all the blood leave his face. They were in the middle of the forest with no way out. Whatever trail they had followed before no longer existed here. Every strange noise made the boy want to jump, mentally cursing the ease at which his companion stood. It took all of his courage to not scream and panic. 

“So, how do we get out of here?” he gulped, terror and panic started to seep into his voice.

“Well, we walk, of course,” Luna breezily replied.

Neville had never felt the urge to bang his head so strongly in his life. Sometimes, for all the intelligence Luna possessed, her answers were less than forthcoming. Neville learned, over time, that what she said always had double meanings or some sort of deeper wisdom. Most of the time.

“Which way?” the boy inquired with only a slight tremor in hisvoice.

“Really, Neville, why are you afraid of the forest?” Luna tilted her head to the side.

“W-why? Because D-dumbledore has always told us to s-stay away,” he exclaimed, giving a sudden jump when a twig broke somewhere in the distance.

“You were find last year when we came,” she observed. “What is it about the forest right now?”

“It’s dark now,” he sighed, exasperated with the blonde before him. “D-don’t you know how terrifying it is? You never know what is around the corner!”

Luna shook her head and patted the boy before her. Unbeknownst to her, he sighed, the tension of fear draining away as another type took it’s place. A faint flush painted Neville’s cheeks, as he turned, trying to muster his courage once more. _Merlin, she’s acting more like the calm, protecting man than I am,_ he groaned.

“What was that?” Luna inquired.

“N-nothing,” Neville shook his head. “Last time I was in the forest at night was a bad one.” His forehead scrunched in concentration, memories of his last night time escaped flooding back. “In fact, Malfoy and Hermione were there, as well. Harry and Hagrid, too. B-but, well, we were looking for whatever was killing the unicorns.”

Suddenly, Neville felt eleven years old again. Before him, images of the dark, scary forest, just as it was now, and the cackling, infuriating presence of Malfoy beside him. Fang panted to the side. His palms began to sweat, breath coming in small, soft gasps, only to be scared out of his skin by Malfoy. 

“L-let’s say Malfoy pranked me,” the boy continued, shaking. “A-and then Hagrid and Hermione and I went around until w-we saw more sparks and then saw _that._ ” 

“What could be so desperate as to want unicorn blood like that?” Luna murmured, gaze focused and intense upon Neville’s face. 

He wanted to believe that concern and compassion were held in her eyes, but he just couldn’t. If Rarely had Neville ever been good enough for someone as wonderful as Luna. Yet, years at this school, learning about himself as well as others, had taught him that he, indeed, was not good enough for Luna. Quirky and eccentric described her, sure, but so did beautiful, smart, compassionate, and loyal. 

“What did you see?” Luna whispered, her hand gently placed upon his arm. 

“H-harry and Malfoy said they saw something drinking it,” he replied. At her horrified expression, Neville thought to himself _and a bit too inquisitive_ with a wry smile. “It was our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Qjuirrell. You-Know-Who possessed him.”

A soft gasp came from the blonde beauty beside him. Neville appreciated her concern and surprise. It had shocked everyone when they learned that the soft, stuttering professor was the nefarious Death Eater. At least three quarters of the school had the greasy potions master pegged for the role. Yet, the horror never truly left Neville. Before thoughts swallowed Neville whole, he felt a hand around his own.

Wide eyes looked up and found caring and concern. Luna looked quite serious, her brow slightly furrowed as she watched him. Neville’s handle of his emotions were tested. Palms became clammy, and eyes dilated at the sight of her. He wanted nothing more than to lean down and kiss her, but his Gram raised him as a gentleman, and gentlemen never forced a lady.

“I didn’t know,” she murmured quietly. “No wonder you are worried. That just means we’ll have to find a way out of her quicker.” 

The gangly brunette simply nodded, mesmerized by the girl in front of him. A slow, sweet smile emerged on her face, red lips bowed up, causing his heart to beat wildly in his chest. Neville knew, just knew, that he was gawking at her, but he couldn’t stop. Nothing he did prepared him for it.

“Y-yeah, I guess,” was his smooth answer.

Luna giggled, however, and Neville felt a reassuring warmth surge forth. A silly grin formed on his own face. Despite their whole situation, Neville couldn’t remember a time he felt happier. He looked down, flush spreading to his ears now, and noticed their hands. While not twined or anything, the warm feeling gushed once more. _Blimey,_ he mused, _I am going mental, practically a poet here. Just what I need, more material for people to tease me with._

“Ah, now on to actually leaving here,” Luna mused aloud, her hand slipping from his after a small squeeze. 

“How are we going to do that?” the boy asked, already missing the warmth of her hand. 

“We are going to follow the unicorn trails,” she smiled in answer.

“The w-what?” Neville blinked, surprised once more. 

“Unicorn trails,” she repeated, her dreamy expression once more donned. “Have you ever heard of deer trails?” A shake of brown head answered. “Ah, well, when creatures, especially large ones, walk through the forest, they make their own trails, kind of like we do. Muggle hunters look for trails left by deer to help navigate. Well, unicorns leave similar trails. However, as an equine, their bodies are wider, thus their trails easier to find and follow.”

Neville simply nodded and motioned for her to continue. While no longer panicking, he felt on the verge. Subtle calming touches and soothing gestures from Luna kept him from reverting to his prior stage of alarm, though. Instead, he blushed more than he had in years. What about her made him lose his rational mind? 

“So,” after a time of silence, “Are there any stories about these unicorn trails?”

“Plenty,” Luna answered easily, “it is said that virgin sacrifices would use them to find a unicorn to protect their honor. Others say that a woman who follow the path will find their true love. I’ve heard of a few where they find the unicorn and turn into one themselves.”

“Is that so,” Neville muttered.

“Professor Trelawney had an interesting theory. If you walk through a unicorn path with your beloved and kiss at the end, you will find ever lasting love with that person,” Luna shrugged.

“W-w-what?!” Neville practically screamed, a strangled, high pitched sound instead leaving the boy.

“Are you quite alright, Neville?” Luna raised her eyebrow. “It’s not like what Professor says ever comes true. You know that she said my true love will die a gruesome death at the hand of garden gnomes just last Tuesday?”

“Y-you don’t say,” Neville gulped, once more trying to master himself.

“Well, just today, she told me I’d find my true love in the after life followed by something else. I”m not sure if she said unicorn or uni lorn. Who knows.”

Neville simply nodded, taking deep breathes to keep his nerves under control. Who said that Professor Trelawney ever said anything right? Besides Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. No one! Not even Hermione, except for maybe that one time… Or twice? But then again, Neville reasoned, he never heard them say it. Just overheard a snippet or two in the common room.

“You look quite pale, Neville,” Luna remarked, knocking the boy back to the present. “I hope you will hold out. See the underbrush? It’s much thicker here because we are nearing the edge of the forest. Indeed, if you look up, you’ll find the tree branches aren’t blocking out the sky either.”

Unconscious action made Neville acknowledge her words. This part did look less sinister than the rest of the forest. He could hear normal animals once more, which encouraged him further. Owls hooted, scaring him stiff in his boots, but nothing more threatening became apparent. Neville concluded the veracity of Luna’s facts: they were indeed near the edge of the forest.

“See that? You can see some of the castle from here. There are the green houses, and Hagrid’s hut is probably right over this hill. I am positive we will find our way out in no time,” Luna continued her calming dialogue.

“I-I’m glad,” he sighed. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be lost in there for a long time,” Neville blushed at the thought. _Well, maybe a few more minutes of holding hands,_ he admitted to himself.

Just as the couple crested the hill, they saw everything and emerged at the edge of the forest. A smile graced Luna’s face once more as she look up at Neville. The gangly teen responded with a goofy grin, reaching all the way to his eyes. For a moment, he swore that she looked like she was going to say, or do, something else. Something more, however the moment passed and she looked forward once more.

“I think it’s time we get back and see what has become of our compatriots,” Luna mused.

With a nod, Neville lead the way, feet from bloody forest of doom behind him. A tree root, though, came to get him and he stumbled. Reaching out to catch on something, anything, his hand wrapped around Luna’s arm, and together they tumbled against a tree. Her body leaned against his as the bark pushed against his back, pain from a scrape shooting through his body. 

He turned his head, afraid his clumsiness once more hurt someone close to him, only to find that Luna fine and unhurt. He discovered her to be quite close to him, as well. Naturally, this made his blood pump harder and face turn as red as Ron Weasley’s hair. She gasped and pulled away, not before accidentally brushing their lips.

“I-I-I’m so sorry L-Luna,” Neville exclaimed as he watched the blonde jolt away from him. “I-I just… There was this root… I couldn’t control… I didn’t mean… You aren’t hurt, are you?” 

All the while, Neville’s brown eyes looked anywhere but at the blonde in front of him. She remained studiously quiet, intense gaze once more settled upon Neville. He continued to babble explains and excuses, questions and assurances of innocence. All the while, he could only think of that little accident. Her scent’s heady effects and the energy and warmth that suffused him for that brief moment dominated his thoughts. 

“I am afraid I should apologize,” Luna murmured, a slight blush on her cheeks as well. “I did not wish to harm you. Perhaps it would be best if we found someone? I am sure that Professor Slughorn and Hagrid are worried.”

Neville simply nodded and went to get up. Instead of taking Luna’s hand, not wanting to risk any more babble from sudden contact, Neville pushed himself off the tree. Firmly outside the forest, they wandered away through the grounds. An awkward ten minutes trickled away before they found Professor Slughorn pacing with clear agitation in front of the Game Keeper’s cabin.

“Dear children,” he bellowed at their appearance, “I am relieved to see you both here. Let me see you, ah yes, of course, Miss Lovegood, Mister Longbottom, please tell me, did you happen upon Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy while in the forest?” 

The two teens looked at each other with alarm, making eye contact for the first time since the incident. A quick and silent conversation flowed between the two, an art mastered during their time in the DA last year. She shook her head, his eyes widened and, as one, they turned towards the obviously worried potions professor.

“No, professor,” the baritone of Neville gently answered. “We haven’t seen Hermione or Malfoy since whatever happened.”

At that moment, the old professor looked absolutely beaten, and it was all he could do to reassure the man himself. Instead, Luna stepped forward and invited him into Hagrid’s home. Once inside, he put the kettle to boil as Luna retrieved cups and tea. They worked in silent harmony. Luna reassured Slughorn that all would be well, pointing out that Hermione had gotten past worst scrapes in the past, and that Malfoy was quite intelligent and quick on his feet.

During this time, Neville only offered input at random intervals, still remembering Luna’s words and their accident. _Unicorn trails, huh,_ the boy thought to himself, _Maybe that old bat was right about this one too…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, time for Neville and Luna alone. I hope you guys enjoyed this! I feel like Luna would know the way to both calm and placate the creatures as well as the way out of the forest. Neville, poor dear, would be the emotional wreck the whole time.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!


	8. Into the Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco find themselves running through the forest in hopes of escaping the stampede of trolls. Instead, they find themselves in the middle of a cross fire of the apparent centaur - troll struggle. Their only hope? Get out and somewhere safe, and Hermione has an idea.

Like a shot, Hermione began to run away from the creatures. Shouts echoed around the forest, blood pumping through her ears as her legs pumped up and down. Grunts and snarls followed close in pursuit, never allowing Hermione a moment’s rest. Somewhere to her left, the panicked mutters and growls of Malfoy alerted her to his presence. 

“Bloody Gryffindors,” he spat, huffing somewhere behind her. “Don’t listen to good sense, that’s what.”

If the moment were not so dire, nor if trolls weren’t hunting them through the forest, Hermione would have found the muttering both amusing and insulting. As it stood, her mind had to agree with him. While not deathly afraid of the forest, like Neville, nor particularly familiar, think Luna, Hermione thought herself to have a healthy fear and respect of the forest. 

In fact, the frequent trips into the forest to visit Gwarp gave her an understanding of the area. As the pair huffed and puffed from the thunderous footsteps, Hermione tried to trace their path. Before a groan of disgust and stupidity overtook her, the ground rumbled beneath her feet. A soft rumble crescendoed to a full-blown thunder. _Centaurs!_

“Shit,” Hermione growled.

An instinct caused her hand grasped the nearest person wrist, body already on improvisation mode. A stifled shriek and quick tug reminded her of the individual she shared the ordeal with. She heard him mutter and curse, grip tightened as her brain automatically tried to pick out some sort of shelter. 

“Merlin, Granger, let me go,” the boy yelled, his normal cool facade falling within moments.

“Saving our lives, Malfoy,” Hermione retorted, “Be useful and help me look, unless you want to get stuck in between the centaurs and trolls.”

That shut him up quickly. She ran off the path, to her left, having spotted something and making it towards her. Vague blackness formed what Hermione interpreted to be an outcrop of rocks. Luckily, her blonde companion noticed the same thing as soon as they veered off the clear path. Every step took them further from the rolling thunder of hooves and the violent gnashing of teeth.

“Halt, you heathens,” one bold, angry centaur commanded, voice reverberating through the area.

Hermione made to stop, hoping that the creature was not talking to her. The Gryffindor in her could never quite step away from a challenge. Unfortunately, she still held onto Malfoy’s wrist, and they were descending into a shallow cave that sat under the black blob from earlier. A sharp tug toppled Hermione over the ledge with a loud clatter.

Pain flared through her body, her mind momentarily incapacitated. She registered curses as they flew about next to her, something warm and gentle, and loud grunts and snarls from outside their temporary sanctuary. Pitiful whimpers broke the silence, which Hermione did not even recognize as her own at first.

“Dammit, Granger, you had to go and break something on me, didn’t you?” the Slytherin boy muttered to himself. She made no move to answer, which proved to be the right choice as the blonde teen continued, “Is this what you Gryffindors do all the time? Run into bloody stupid situations with no plan, no escape, and no idea what the hell you’re doing? It’s a wonder Saint Potter and Weaselbee are still alive after all of this!”

Teeth tugged at her lower lip, trying to keep the pain from escaping her. Some logical part of her mind, however, hand to agree with Malfoy for the most part. Their scrapes were death were beyond reckless, and, if it weren’t for her, Hermione knew not what would happen to those boys. Instead of agreeing, she observed her surroundings. Darkness permeated the area, stars hidden by the rocky overhang. 

With a swish, a blue flame appeared in front of them, the warmth radiating around the area. A twitch of her wrist, and wards sealed themselves around their temporary shelter. a small measure of safety amongst the distant yells and clashing that echoed outside filled Hermione, finally able to relax. All the while, the Slytherin watched her with guarded interest, rant of reckless, stupid Gryffindors tapering into silence. 

Eyes widened as he saw the witch in front of him whip out her wand, pointing it towards him, and, before he could move, shout _incendio_. A fireball flew past his left ear as a high pitched squeal erupted from behind. Hermione watched as Malfoy turned, almost in slow motion, towards a now burning acromantula. 

“H-how did you…?” He trailed off, stiff with fear.

“I saw the eyes,” she shrugged, surveying the rest of the dark cave. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything else here. Maybe a few normal bugs, but nothing that will hurt us.”

The blonde’s mouth worked up and down, not quite sure how to take the news. Hermione, though seeing this, decided to ignore it. Neither liked to admit weakness in front of the other, and she respected that. Honey eyes watched the flickering blue flame, ears open for any change. Yet, the relentless shrieks and clangs echoed at a steady pace. A tired, frustrated sigh whooshed out of her lungs.

All the while, grey eyes watched each grimace and frown with startling intensity. Never before had he been on an actual adventure. Sure, pranks and fights, duels and parties were common enough in Slytherin, but not actual quest-like incidents. Yet, here he sat, in a dingy cave after running away from trolls and centaurs with the Gryffindor Princess herself killing a spider to keep them safe. He didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Are they always like this?” he finally broke the silence with.

“Define they,” she responded, eyes darting towards the entrance.

“Your adventure-quest-things.”

A moment of silence fell upon them, her eyes still the blue, flickering flames. She appeared to be looking past them, as if seeing past events within. He could only imagine the things the obnoxious group of Gryffindors found themselves doing. 

“They tend to be unplanned, unintended, and requiring quick thinking,” her quiet, slow words brought attention back to her. “In that case, I suppose this fits into that mold.”

“Ah,” Malfoy nodded, expression pensive.

“The centaurs and trolls have been at each other for a while now. With all of the conflicts going on between You-Know-Who, Dumbledore, us here, well, they’ve finally boiled over. The centaurs don’t want to take a side, while the trolls are trying to pressure them by invading their territory,” Hermione murmured, focus still upon the flame.

“Why are you telling me this?” the blonde Slytherin asked, brow scrunched in confusion.

“I-I,” she started, glancing at the stormy eyes of her companion. “I tend to talk and explain and run facts when I get anxious. I suppose it’s important to know why we’re stuck here and no one is looking for us.” She shrugged, curling her good knee up and hugging it towards her. 

“Trolls are nocturnal, and will only retreat when the sun rises. That is when we’ll be able to get out of here. For right now, I’ve set up some wards around the cave. They won’t even know where we are hiding. If you want, you can sleep. I’m the honorable Gryffindor, so you can be sure I won’t attack you or anything,” she continued, voice low and distracted. 

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy truly looked upon the girl in the cave with him. Without the pressures of society, his family, his task, he saw not a Gryffindor or a bookworm, but a young witch. Sharp, resourceful, but still as nervous and scared of the whole situation as he. Not that Draco would ever tell anyone if they were to ask, but he respected her intelligence and wit. Not everyone could keep up with him, but she did so with ease. In fact, if it were not for her, he’d probably be caught up in the battle still raging outside.

“You should probably be the one to sleep,” he exhaled, grudging and reluctant. 

Brown, bushy hair bobbed, though she made no move to do anything other than look at the fire. He supposed that her ability to understand when to push him another thing to be thankful about. A swish and flick casted a cushioning charm for the both of them, and, instead of the sharp glare expected, the brunette simply nodded at him.

The rest of the night passed in a surprisingly companionable silence. They took turns dozing for half an hour at a time until weak beams of light found their way into the cave. Sometime during the night, the warming charm had worn off. The blue flame, crackling happily filled the cave with a happy, cosy sound.

Eyes still closed, mind foggy, Hermione felt comfortable and safe, though not quite as comfortable as her bed. Instead of getting up right away, she figured that she had fallen asleep while doing homework in the common room. Sluggish thoughts wound around her mind, wondering what assignments needed to be completed. Something pulled at her waist towards a wall of warmth. She squirmed a bit until comfortable until a soft puff ruffled her hair. 

Then the night came rushing back in a flash. Slughorn. Potions ingredient hunting. Trolls. Running through a dark forest. Centaurs attacking. Breaking her leg. And Malfoy. Malfoy! Honey eyes shot open as she realized not just where she lay, but with whom. Hermione laid on her back, unable to move anymore without the fear of damaging her leg further. The blonde Slytherin, to her surprised, had curled up between her and the opening as if to protect her. She mentally scoffed at such an idea, but, all the same, could not deny the facts.

After a moment, trying to come to terms with the situation, Hermione decided it could not be done until another time. She tried to shuffle away from the blonde, hoping to get away before he woke up and demanded an explanation of something she neither did nor remembered. This, however, caused Malfoy to tighten his grip on her waist.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled, voice laced with sleep.

“You need to wake up, Malfoy, it’s morning,” a gentle shove accompanying these words.

“No,” he protested, as he tried to bury himself into her hair.

“Come on,” she prodded some more. _Who knew Draco Malfoy likes to cuddle and looks so innocent and cute when he’s sleepy,_ her mind chuckled. “It’s morning. We’ve got to get back to the Castle. They’ll be worried.”

“Granger,” he grumbled, finally blinking awake. “What the bloody-“

“Trolls versus centaurs sent us into hiding last night,” she began in a neutral tone before he could say anything else, “I broke my leg, so I can’t get up right now, but we need to go. The sooner we’re back the better.”

All the while, the blonde got up and backed away, ears pricked as he listened to her. At mention of her injury, he glanced down and nearly winced. Blood and an ugly bruise were visible through the tear on her pants. Instead of making a fuss, which, he conceded, he wanted to, the blonde Slytherin got up, cancelling the various spells and wards around the area as she sat up.

“Are you sure they’re gone?” was the only response.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded after a moment. “Trolls don’t like the day, and the centaurs should be regrouping further in the forest. I-I think I know where we are.” A blonde brow rose up. “I’ve spent a lot of time here, Malfoy. If I’m right, we will be coming out behind the lake.”

“At least that’s encouraging,” he muttered with a sigh. “If you mention this-“

“We can’t,” Hermione huffed as she shuffled towards a wall. “Vow. Slughorn said that anything we do, just the two of us, can’t be spoken of with anyone but him until he releases us.”

He simply watched her for a moment, as she brought herself up to a stand with great difficulty. Almost on her feet, she jostled her leg and fell back down. Her teeth bit down hard on her lip as only a whimper escaped instead of a full out shriek. Malfoy realized that this, perhaps, is what made a Gryffindor different from a Slytherin. His housemates would be screaming or whining, trying to get his help with emotional blackmail and guilt. However, this girl tried to be strong, wasn’t willing to show weakness even now. With a frustrated huff, he ran a hand through his messy blonde hair before caving.

“I can’t wait all day for you to get up, Granger,” he gruffly muttered and swept down to help the girl up.

“Glad to know chivalry isn’t dead,” she retorted without venom.

“Didn’t you know that Malfoy are well known for their gentlemanly up bringing and manners,” he smirked back, unable to help himself.

“Can’t say I have,” she chuckled trying to hide a wince.

The pair alternated between surprisingly companionable silence and less than stinging banter. Hermione guided Malfoy through the unmarked forest until they found a somewhat familiar path. For the next two hours, they trekked through the ever growing underbrush until, finally, bursting out of the forest all together. 

“Finally,” Hermione panted, wincing with each step. “God, I forgot how damn deep we went.”

“Well, being chased by rampaging trolls does have that effect on people,” Malfoy snarked. 

“I hate trolls,” she mumbled.

“You mean there is a creature that even the great humanitarian Hermione Granger doesn’t like? I never thought I’d see the day, let me get out my calendar to mark it,” he snorted.

“Yes, Malfoy, you found my fatal flaw. Whatever shall I do,” honey eyes rolled.

“Obviously, beg me to keep it secret. Maybe even offer me a few favors to keep it quiet,” he smirked once more.

“You are horrible,” she laughed. “Ow.”

“Do you think we could send up sparks now?” he muttered as he cast a glance at the mangled leg.

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” she nodded.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Horace spent the night fluttering around Hagrid’s cabin, hoping beyond hope that his two, young apprentices would show up. However, as they prepared to launch a search party into the forest, the massive man, himself, told them to wait until morning. Apparently, the trolls were intentionally instigating the centaurs, and the group of plant gathering wizards found themselves in the middle of it.

Not until at least eight or nine in the morning did the half-giant grant them entrance into the forest once more. Several professors searched the periphery, hoping that they were perhaps around the edge. Yet, two hours of searching resulted in nothing. Horace, himself, took the far edge of the forest, sweeping by west side of the Black Lake. Suddenly, bright green sparks erupted into the air near him. A spark of hope went through the old professor, hoping the two students of his were safe.

Indeed, at the far bank of the lake were two figures, the brunette heavily leaning against the blonde as if injured. In response, red sparks flew into the sky above him. As fast as he could, he went towards the pair, who hobbled at a far slower rate than he. When the came within ear shot, it took everything the man had to not stop and gape at the pair. 

Miss Granger, obviously injured and unable to walk, had an arm around Mister Malfoy’s shoulders while his own snaked around her waist. They were, for all intent and purposes, bantering. Not insulting, not sniping, not even fighting. No, they were teasing each other. It was playful. It was cute. It gave the old man hope.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur. They rushed Miss Granger off to the infirmary, where Poppy diagnosed her with a broken leg and some minor bruises. Mister Malfoy, for his part, only had small cuts and bruises. Before either could be swamped with their own set of admirers, the tubby potions master took both aside.

“Professor, here was what you were looking for,” the girl immediately said, shuffling through her cloak. 

“Ah, excellent Miss Granger,” he beamed at the girl, and not missing the rolled eyes of the blonde aristocrat. 

“Really? You actually kept them?” he gave an exasperated sigh.

“What? Robe pockets are deep,” she defended with a huff. “And, look at it this way, we don’t have to go out into the forest any time soon.”

Both men had to concede that point. He talked shop, as it were, for a few moments, saying that, as soon as they were rested, he had a list of potions he needed them to brew after hours. When, where, and what they were to do was further explained as both nodded. Not until later did he notice neither actively leaning away from the other, nor were they actually put out as before. No, a silent camaraderie developed over the night, and the old professor couldn’t help but be happy about that.

“What are we to tell our friends, professor,” the lovely brunette asked.

“About what, my dear?” he beamed at the girl.

“Well, everything really,” she frowned, pensive and expressive.. “I mean, we can’t just tell them what happened, our vow doesn’t allow that, so what do we say?”

“Ah, well, tell them of it, I suppose. Though, you know, nothing that they don’t know I suppose,” he hummed in thought. “Tell them that you are both helping me, which is true, and that you were caught up and couldn’t leave the forest until this morning. That should suffice.”

Both apprentices nodded at the man, who smiled so widely both were more than wary of him. Indeed, as it were, he perhaps was showing too much. His plan flowed slowly, but at least it appeared to be making some sort of change. As he left both in the capable hands of the school nurse, Horace mused on the body language of the pair. 

Something changed for the better, and he couldn’t be any happier about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now on to more Dramione! Yay Dramione! I quite enjoyed writing them bickering so much, since it really displays their characters and how they interact.


	9. Quiet Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two assistants brew a few necessities while under the observation of Horace. Delighted by their progress, he meets with a past favorite, Severus Snape.

A week passed in quiet serenity since The Forest Debacle, as Horace decided to label said incident. Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy appeared to recover from said terrifying night in the forest with admirable speed, never letting on anything out of the ordinary. That is not to say, Horace prided himself with a small smile, that things did not change between the pair. Sly glances revealed a quiet, hidden respect between the Slytherin and Gryffindor. Invisible, if one were not to look for it, but all the same present. 

The fact that ‘tame’ and ‘boring’ assignments brought a smile to the old man’s face. Of course, he would not assign such a dangerous task after such a close call. No, he wanted his little helpers to absorb the information and acclimate to the change. As with a well brewed cup of tea, impeccable timing reigned in his decisions.

“Pass the bloodroot,” Hermione said, placing a vial of lacewings near her partner, who handed her the vial in question. “Thanks.”

A smile bloomed on his face as he returned to the complex arithmatic problem that sat upon his desk. For the past few nights, both students worked in peaceful harmony, the atmosphere cocooning his dungeon classroom. Soft knocking brought the old professor’s head up to notice a past favorite of his. Beaming and beckoning, Horace stood to receive Severus Snape.

“Ah, Severus, m’boy, how can an old man such as myself help you this evening?” crow’s feet wrinkled at the highly successful wizard before him.

“If I can have a moment of your time,” Severus’ baritone answered, barely missing a beat as he observed the odd pair working. 

“I always have a moment for you,” the portly wizard answered before leading the man to the side room.

All the while, both students stiffened. Horace noticed, blue eyes twinkling, how neither actually stopped anything they were doing. Neither moved from their side, nor took their potions elsewhere, nor did they start to snipe at each other. Their cautiously straight backs, and wary, flickering eyes betrayed nothing other than alertness of a new person in the room.

For a time, Horace discussed both his current project from the headmaster, ingredients and preparation included, with his past student. Dark eyes darted from his face to the students across the room. He saw the surprise followed by calculation and worry. If not for his years as Slytherin Head of House, Horace supposed the small tilt of he head and quick glances could have been overlooked. 

Conversation slowly petered out until it left the two potions masters watching the Gryffindor and Slytherin at work. As the half hour passed since Severus’ entrance, Horace noted how the easy banter and exchange of ingredients resumed their previous ‘flow’ or ‘rhythm.’ Indeed, young Draco and Hermione did not notice the adults as much as before. 

“I am quite sure I know how to properly chop flobberworms, Malfoy,” Hermione huffed, sliding the precise amount of perfectly cut worms towards the Slytherin. “One of us had to. Powdered asphodel?”

“Merlin, I can’t imagine being friends with such idiots,” Draco rolled his eyes, though he looked the proffered tray and handed over another container.

“Crabbe and Goyle,” the girl snorted, shooting a smirk at the boy.

“They aren’t idiots,” he defended, “Just a bit slow on the uptake. Newt tails?”

“I never said they were,” Hermione sagely replied, adding the powder to her cauldron before passing a tray with small cubes.

“Ah, but you heavily implied,” Draco shot back, stirring his concoction. 

“Yes, because implication is an absolutely fool-proof way to support your claim,” she hummed, turning the flame higher.

“Yet, as the stereotypical Gryffindor, you would feel compelled to tell the truth, admitting to thinking such things,” the boy persisted.

“You obviously know very little about Gryffindors,” she laughed. “Or, at the very least, about this Gryffindor.”

“I could say the same about your lot and Slytherins,” he smirked. “And I highly doubt you’ve done anything that could even be remotely against the rules.”

“You would, wouldn’t you,” her cryptic reply, a small, mischievous grin upon her face.

“What’s the worst you could’ve done? Been out after curfew, because you lost track of time in the library?” drawled the blonde. Grey eyes narrowed at the growing smirk on the girl’s face. “What is it?”

“As you, yourself, proclaimed, I am far too much of a goody-two-shoes, rule abiding, noble and just Gryffindor to _ever_ do anything even _remotely_ against the rules, let alone the law,” Hermione sighed. “I wouldn’t even _think_ to take vigilante justice into my hands. Not once. Never, because the law is _always_ fair, just, and right. No way I would ever play _dirty._ ”

“Granger,” Draco growled, watching as she brushed a stray curl from her face. “What exactly are you saying?”

“Nothing,” Hermione hummed, “I’m a Gryffindor, remember?”

He stared, intense and discerning, at the brunette as she continued to stir the contents of cauldron. All the while, Horace chortled to himself. Severus, the old professor mused, appeared quite amused by the turn of conversation. A small quirk appeared on the dark wizard’s face, his head buried in various texts.

A few moments of silence enveloped the room once more. Horace noted that, while Severus appeared to have been engrossed by the formula, his ears twitched as he listened into their conversation. For his part, student essays and red ink beckoned. Even as bubbling and flames echoed through room, he could see the gears turning in Severus’ head. Hermione disappeared into the stock room shortly after, gathering the required vials and flasks, as Draco turned off the flames to begin the clean up. 

Horace began to question Severus once more, quiet and low so his assistance could not make out quite the content of said conversation. Efficient in their clean up as in their work, the two current students packaged, cleaned, and tidied their work stations. Hermione, as normal, opened her extra satchel to place the potions in for Madam Pomfrey. Draco carefully tallied and replaced the list of tasked they both were assigned for the moment.

“Malfoy, just one more thing before you leave,” both men at the front of the room pretended not to hear as she whispered, bent over to pack her bag. “Be careful.” He merely quirked a brow. “With whatever you are doing. Harry has noticed something’s off about you this term.”

“I’ll take that into mind,” he finished, brow furrowed as he stared at her. “But, why tell me.”

“It’s what partners do,” she gave a careless shrug. “I’m serious, you know? He’s like a dog with a bone, and that never ends up well for anyone involved.”

Confusion painted the young Malfoy’s face for several more moments, Horace sure he never experienced such caring in an individual outside his circle. 

“Why are you being so,” he hesitated, “Nice?”

“Gryffindor,” she smirked before straightening up, and with a, “Good night Professor Slughorn, Professor Snape,” swept out of the room, leaving three dazed Slytherins behind.

With a violent shake of his head, the young Malfoy set his features into a neutral expression before leaving with a brief nod. A brow rose at the exit of both, near amazement on the younger man’s face as Horace beamed happily at the door. _Yes_ , he thought, _They are progressing quite well, if I say so myself._

“Do I even want to know, Horace?” a silky baritone brought back from his thoughts.

“I am doing something I should have done years ago, Severus, m’boy,” Horace hummed at the essays strewn before him.

“Sir?” 

“I believe I have done a great disservice to many students in the past,” the normally jovial professor sighed. “But not this time. This time, I will do what is right.”

Severus blinked a few times before shaking his head. Horace knew the young man would not want to know his true motivations. Severus’ own lost love remained quite the sore subject to any who dared encroach upon it. That did not mean that he could not enjoy the fruits of his labor now. No, no, he planned on using it to his advantage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a chapter off with that one joint chapter, so I’m making it come back and forth once again. The next chapter will be Neville and Luna again, just for fun and to see what we can do there. I hope you all enjoy it!

**Author's Note:**

> It started on Tumblr. I saw a series of gifs of this scene. The way that Tom Felton, a fellow Dramione shipper, played it really struck me and I decided to run with it. I posted this originally on Tumblr, adding portions as I go. It is essentially a collection of one-shots that create a cohesive, amusing story.


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